


Breaking

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attack, Blood and Gore, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Has Feelings, Derek Loves Stiles, Emotionally Constipated Derek, Hospital, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Jacksons still an asshole, Jydia, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Nogitsune, Nogitsune Stiles, Pack Bonding, Pack Feels, Possessed Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Sad Stiles, Scallison, Stiles Kills People, Stiles Loves Derek, Stiles is Derek's Anchor, season 3b, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:21:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4625184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has always been the one to push aside his own problems, and fix everyone elses. He's always been the one to solve and save the day. But what happens, when Stiles breaks down? When he feels pain that he can't ignore? Who is going to save him from the supernatural spirits that lure around the ghostly town of Beacon Hills? The answer, is Derek Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Point Proven

"Stiles, wake up buddy." Scott whispered as he softly shook Stiles shoulder who was currently spawled out across his bed, wrapped in his duvet with his feet poking out the end.

"Stiles," Scott tried again, more aggressive this time. "C'mon buddy, time for school." but this received no response other than a small groan that escaped Stiles' lips.

"Stiles." Scott growled, becoming frustrated with the human before him. Stiles ignored Scotts presence, he pulled the covers up and over his head before he rolled over. He instantly knew it was a bad idea not to follow Scotts demands. Next thing he knew, Scott had ripped off the covers with so much force that it pushed Stiles off the bed. He yelped loudly has he fell onto the floor in a heap.

"No werewolf powers!" Stiles groaned as he pushed himself off the floor. "Start a fight with someone who can fight back!"

"C'mon man. Your not still thinking that you're a 'worthless member of the pack', right?" Scott asked, as he placed the covers back on Stiles' bed.

"Well I'm 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone, sarcasm is my _only_ defence. And I don't know any supernatural creatures we can defeat with sarcasm."

A short moment of silence followed but Stiles soon changed the subject. "I'm going for a shower." Stiles huffed as he grabbed the towel that hanged over the back of his desk chair and a handful of clothes.

"Don't be too long!" Scott yelled as Stiles shut the door.

Stiles placed his clothes on the closed toilet seat and turned the shower on, undressing himself. He quickly stepped into the shower, letting the hot water soothe him. He washed his hair with the strawberry shampoo, his hair was getting longer and he liked it that way. Once he rinsed himself of his coconut body wash, Stiles turned off the shower and stepped out. He grabbed his towel and began to dry his hair and body, giving occasional glances to the full body mirror to his right. He hated his body. All of his friends had toned, muscled bodies but all Stiles had was bone and sarcasm. He hated it. He hated how small he felt. Just look at Derek, all muscle and strength. Derek has everything. Stiles has nothing.

"Stiles, man, you need to hurry up!" Scott shouted from the other side of the door, banging his fist against it twice. Stiles groaned in response, quickly throwing on the clothes he had picked up. Throwing a short glance at the mirror, he was almost satisfied. _Almost_. He was only wearing a pair of black jeans, a graphic tee and his signature flannel but still didn't feel confident. That was one thing Stiles struggled with, confidence. He covered it with sarcasm but thankfully for his best friends werewolf senses, Stiles was always court out on his anxiety when it crept in. His thoughts lead back to his pack. Scott, Isaac, Derek and all the others were pretty much gods. Especially Derek. Stiles wished he would be pretty and as muscled as the rest of his male friends. Always wishing to be some kind of supernatural creature. Stiles always felt left out and in the way with the pack, he couldn't help them. He was just a human with a baseball bat.

He took a deep breath, breaking him out of his thoughts as he unlocked the door and walked into the hallway. Thankfully, Scott wasn't standing outside so wouldn't smell Stiles emotions. 

Back in his bedroom, he found Scott on his phone standing in the middle of his room. Stiles sighed before grabbing his trainers and sliding them onto his feet. He slid his phone into his back pocket and then slung his backpack over his shoulder. 

"C'mon, Scott. Let's go," Stiles said as he began to walk out of his room, but he turned around to find Scott still glued to his phone. Stiles sighed and grabbed the back of Scott's shirt, attempting to pull him but it didn't work. "Damn it, Scott, come on!" Stiles let out a frustrated groan and let go of Scott's top, before running his hand through his hair. "Scott, you'll see Kira at school. The sooner we go, the sooner you can see her."

"I know but I'm not texting Kira. I'm texting Derek," Scott replied but raised his eyebrows as Stiles' heart skipped a beat at the mention of Derek. Scott's head shot up as he squinted his eyes. "What was that? Did...did you heart just skip a beat?"

"What?" Stiles replied, pretending not to know about what Scott was talking about. He really wasn't prepared to explain the feelings he felt for Derek. "Why you texting Derek?"

Scott continued to stare at Stiles, still interested to know why his heart skipped a beat. He decided to let it slide and let out a long sigh. "Just about a pack meeting later."

"He didn't text me," Stiles felt genially hurt and disappointed. He knew he didn't fit, he knew Derek didn't want him in the pack. Why would he want a useless human?

"Stiles, its not personal," Scott sighed, giving Stiles a confused expression. With a roll of his eyes, Stiles turned on his heal and walked out of his room, making his way downstairs as he head Scotts head footsteps come up behind him.

"He probably didn't think to text you 'cause your with me." Scott said as he ran down the stairs, but Stiles didn't look back or reply. The sheriff had already left so Stiles grabbed his keys from the side and made his way out to the Jeep as he listened to Scotts lame excuses.

"Does Derek even have your number?" Scott asked as he followed Stiles out.

"Wouldn't be surprised if he didn't." Stiles muttered bitterly under his breath as he climbed into the drivers seat.

Scott got in just as Stiles roared the engine to life, quickly backing out of his drive way and down the road as Scott continued to talk. "You really shouldn't be upset, there isn't anything to this. He probably has a valid reason-"

"What like how I don't need to be there as I don't contribute? Other than my annoying rambling, I don't bring anything to the pack." Stiles snapped, not intending to sound so annoyed.

"No, Stiles, you do bring to the pack-"

"What?" Stiles cut his of again. "What do I bring to the pack, Scott?" 

Scott took longer than normal to answer, making Stiles stomach twist as the realisation hit him that even Scott thinks he's useless. As they pulled into the school car park, Stiles felt himself becoming agitated. He felt like he was trapped, with no way to get out. Strange, he never usually felt that way with Scott.

"Your knowledge." Scott answered after minutes of silence, turning to look at Stiles but he didn't look back. 

Putting the car into park, Stiles replied without a glance towards Scott. "Knowledge will do jack-shit when I'm face to face with a werwolf who wants to rip out my throat." He spat bitterly as he got out the car and slammed the door, not waiting for Scott before walking into school.

 


	2. Stupid Jeep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles didn't plan for his Jeep to break down along the side of the road, which so happens to be beside the preserve on a full moon. But without Scotts warning about a pack of werewolves roaming the woods, Stiles didnt realise he was in danger until it hit him, literally.

"Oh c'mon!" Stiles yelled in frustration as his Jeep refused to start. Once again, he was sitting on the side of the road with a broken down car that refused to start. And even better, it was beside the woods, on a full moon. Stiles knew he needed to get a new car, but he couldn't push himself to loose him precious Jeep. So instead, he got out his duck tape and did what he normally does.

"Ahhhh!" He shouted with gritted teeth as the car continued to refuse to start. He was beginning to give up, seriously considering walking back to Beacon Hills. On his final try to get the car started, he heard what sounded like a roar in the distance, but shook it off. He couldn't stand it anymore, the car just wouldn't start. He whipped out his phone from his back pocket and dialled Scotts number.

And on the second ring, he finally anwered. "Stiles," He answered, and Stiles instantly recognised that he was out of breath. "Whats up man?"

"Scott, are you busy?" Stiles asked, running a hand through his hair.

"Slightly, whats wrong?" Scott replied quickly.

"I'm broken down and-"

"What?" Scott interrupted with a frantic tone. "Where?"

"On the outside road leading to town, its fine, Scott, I'll phone my dad and-"

"No no no, Stiles," Scott interrupted, he sounded worried now. "Stiles, you need to get away from the woods, now!"

"What? Why? Look, Scott, I know its a full moon but-"

"No, Stiles!" Scott shouted down the phone. "Get away from the woods, now!"

"Scott, what the hell is going on-" Stiles was cut off by another howl, but this time it was much louder. Stiles spun in a circle to see nothing but dark woods.

"Stiles?" Scott asked impatiently.

"Scott, what the hell is going on?" Stiles hissed.

"Stiles, I'll explain later, you just need to-"

"No, Scott!" Stiles cut him off. "Your going to tell me now!"

"Stiles, there is a pack of werewolves running around the woods. Me and the rest of the pack are out here chasing them off but there are still come out there, you need to-"

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" Stiles was surprised to find his voice dint falter or break. "I'm sorry, Stiles, I just didn't want you getting hurt-" Stiles cut Scott off with a bitter laugh. "God thats the worst thing you've come up with, Scott. Seriously I'm disappointed," Stiles ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to protect myself, but obviously it took you this long to decide to leave your best friend behind." "Stiles, please-" "Just forget it, Scott. Stupid little useless humans should just stay out of it, like you want." Stiles snapped bitterly then hung up, more frustrated than hurt. I mean, come on, Stiles has been part of the pack since the beginning, and only now are they stopping him from helping on the things that could get him injured. Why didn't they tell him at least? Usually he was included in everything, even if it meant going out into the woods to fight off things twice his size. But no, now of all times they decide that it would be a good idea to keep things from him.

Stiles was so caught up in thought that he didn't notice the approaching figure until it was almost too late. But when Stiles did see it, he already knew he was screwed. The figure was double his size. Stiles spun around and began to run, but skidded to a stop when he saw another figure was walking towards him in that direction. He looked between the two, finding himself trapped as they walked closer. But before Stiles could react, he felt the alpha behind him grab his collar and jerk him back so fast Stiles went flying into the side of his Jeep and crashing onto the concrete floor. Pain erupted all over him, he could feel the blood running down his neck. The throw was so strong that Stiles left a indent on the side of the Jeep where he hit it. But Stiles didn't have any time to recover before the alphas strolled up to him, slamming and kicking into his gut and his head. Stiles did his best to block them but slowly felt himself loosing consciousness. He felt them pick him up by the throat, then slamming him back down on his back. He coughed and gasped, feeling the blood run out of his mouth. His vision blurred, but enough to see them towering over him. The last thing he remembered was being thrown far into the air, and crashing down, landing back first as everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so that was chapter 2!! What you all think so far? :))


	3. Unknown Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek develops some feelings when he finds Stiles unconscious on the side of the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is Chapter 3 and TYSM for all the wonderful comments, its so encouraging and lovely so thank you and enjoy :))

"Derek?" He instantly recognised Scott's voice through the phone.

"I think they've gone-" Derek began but was cut off by Scott.

"Derek, its Stiles. His Jeep broke down along the forest line and he won't answer his phone and I heard his scream a few minutes ago-"

"Scott, calm down, just find his scent." Derek replied.

"I am, Derek. Ive got Issac with me, and Jackson but we need more help."

Derek didn't answer. He stood thinking, a sudden wash of worry upon him when he thought of Stiles in danger. But why? Derek's never really liked Stiles?

"Please, Derek." Scott pleaded down the phone. Derek observed the worry and panic in the alphas voice.

"Okay," Derek replied. "I'll go now."

"Thank you." Scott sighed and hung up.

As Derek ran through the woods, he became more and more worried about Stiles. Unaware that he would feel this way about him. The first thing he saw was his Jeep. Which didnt look out of shape at all, until he looked closer and saw the large indent.

That was when Derek caught the scent of Stiles' fear, and worst of all, his blood. Derek sprinted onto the road, when he saw a unconscious figure laying on the ground. The smell of Stiles' blood was overpowering. Derek could smell what happened, he could smell the pack of werewolfs that were responsible for this. As Derek got closer, he realised it was Stiles. He was laying with only the ripped remainings of his shirt. His pale body covered in blood, bruises and cuts. Derek felt the sudden urge to run after the pack and kill them, but he didn't want to leave the poor boy.

Derek fell to his knees beside Stiles. He removed his jacket and rapped it around the boy, before picking him up bridal style and walking back to his car which he had left earlier before they all went out. Derek couldn't help but notice how Stiles fit perfectly onto his chest, the thought made him smile slightly. He felt the warm, fresh blood trickle on to his hands and he broke into a run. Derek gently put Stiles into the passenger seat when he noticed the boy was shivering. Acting quickly, he ran around to the trunk and whipped out a soft blanket. Usually Derek would hate to give this to Stiles even when he's not going to stain it with blood. But for some reason, Derek felt his wolf howling at him at the sight of Stiles in distress. After wrapping Stiles in the blanket and strapping the seat belt, he jumped in the drivers seat and sped down the dark road.

As they drove along, Derek reached out a hand to take Stiles pain, but he only lasted a few seconds as the pain was too much for him and he jerked away. He could only thank the fact that Stiles was unconscious and hopefully won't be feeling the pain. However then Stiles stirred slightly, a small wince escaped his bloody lips as he scrunched up his face. Derek watched him tensed up, his eyes fluttering slightly before he went limp again. Normally, Derek would be more than furious that Stiles was sitting in his own pool of blood all over Derek's car seat. But for some reason, Derek couldn't help but feel deeply concerned for the wounded human sitting beside him. Derek pulled over from the road, listening closely as Stiles faint heart beat hiccuped every now and then, his breathing becoming more ragged.

Stiles moved slightly and turned his head towards Derek as his eyes half opened. "D'rek?" Even his wolf hearing barley caught the voice, it was so broken and quiet. His face was worryingly pale, worse looking compared to the crimson red blood running down the side of his cheek.

"I'm here, Stiles," Derek inched closer. "Your safe now."

"D'n't tell the oth'rs," Stiles muttered closed his eyes again, making Derek panic until he saw his chest rise and fall slowly. Derek knew who the 'others' were. And he actually understood why Stiles didn't want him to know. From what Derek gathered, Stiles didn't want to feel like this helpless human who needed saving. But Derek knew he had to inform them that Stiles was safe. He reached forward and grabbed his phone out of his blood covered jacket pocket. He quickly dial the number and placed the phone to his ear.

"Derek?" Scott's voice appeared down the phone.

"Scott, I found him."

"Hey guys, Derek's got him!" Scott called out to the pack around him. "Is he okay?"

"Not really, if I'm honest." Derek ran his hand through his hair as his eyes laid on the small boy before him.

"Okay, where are you? Are you at the hospital? I'm coming." Scott quickly spoke in panic.

"Scott, calm down!" Derek demanded, not wanting to deal with him in this state. "I'm in the car and I'm going to get him to hospital now."

"Is he awake?"

"He woke up for a moment but then passed out again." Derek told him, as he pushed some hair off Stiles forehead. Revealing a nasty looking gash that was pooling out blood, making Derek's wolf whimper before he controlled himself.

"Okay, we'll make our way over there now." Scott didn't wait for Dereks response before he ended the call.

"What am I going to do with you." Derek muttered to himself as he turned on the engine and continued his hectic driving to the hospital.  


	4. First Visit

_Stiles shot up, gasping for air. He felt numb, like he was floating, unable to feel his limbs. He looked around to see him laying on a concrete floor, the room was dark other than a small dim light that kept flickering. Stiles tried to get up but found that his hands were chained to the floor. Panic swelling inside, he struggled against the chains, but it was useless. The sharp metal cutting into his skin, making him hiss and slump on the floor in defeat._

_"Stiles." a quiet hollow voice echoed through the empty room. Stiles head shot up, his head feeling foggy and unable to find out what direction the voice came from. Struggling to his feet, he turned in a small circle, but the owner of the voice was no where to be seen._

_"Who are you?" Stiles whimpered, trying to hold back the tears. He heard a wicked laugh come from the corner of the room, making Stiles jump out of his skin and fall to the floor._

_"It doesn't matter who I am. But who are you Stiles?" The voice echoed through the thick air._

_"I...I don't understand." Stiles was confused, the fear and dark making him feel as if he was being suffocated._

_"Who are you Stiles." the voice emphasised on the last s, sounding like a snake. "_

_I'm Stiles...just Stiles." Stiles replied, his voice breaking as a tear rolled down his cheek._

_"Just Stiles?" The voice questioned. Stiles began to break down, confused as to what this person wanted. "Do you want to be just Stiles?" the voice was menacing, sending chills up Stiles' spine._

_"I...I don't know." Stiles whimpered, curling in on himself to push into a ball._

_"I do. I know what you want. You want to be powerful, not this worthless, useless human that is unwanted in the pack." The voice was coming closer, getting louder and harsher with every word. "I'm right, aren't I Stiles?"_

_"Y-yes" Stiles cried, scared to the bone, shaking through his sobs._

_"All you have to do, is let me in". the voice was so close that Stiles could feel breaths on his face. Squeezing his aching eyes shut as he tried to move away but found his body un co-orperating._

_"What...what do you mean?" Stiles choked on his words, keeping his eyes shut._

_"I can make you powerful, just like Scott, just like Issac, just like Derek" Stiles flinched at the word 'Derek'. "You wouldn't have to be afraid Stiles, not of anyone. All you have to do, is let me in." Stiles stayed silent, considering what the voice had said. How did this person know all this? Was this one of the werewolves that beat him up? Was this an offer of the bite? As much as Stiles wanted power and strength, he never wanted to be bitten. He knows Scott would never forgive him if he asked for the bite, seeing how much Scott struggles with the control._

_"I...I don't know" Stiles stuttered, mind still focused on his offer. He was more than desperate for power, strength and respect. He didn't want anything more than for Derek and Scott to think of him as a useful member of the pack. Of course Scott would never admit it, but he didn't have to. He mad it obvious every time the subject comes up, or their out fighting something. Stiles can see it in Scotts eyes that he doesn't think he should be there._

_"Derek would accept you," the voice teased Stiles. He must have known about Stiles feelings towards Derek. Were they obvious? Stiles did everything he could to keep his feelings to himself. "Derek would need you." Something snapped inside Stiles when Derek was mentioned. He replayed the line, 'Derek would need you'._

_"Let. Me. In!" The voice shriecked. Stiles flinched before everything turned black again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO THIS IS STILES FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH THE DEMON!!! BTW WHEN STILES IS LIKE IN A MINI UNCONSCIOUS SESSION WITH THE DEMON OR INSIDE HIS HEAD, THEN IT IS IN ITALICS   
> :D gonna update again later or tomorrow :))


	5. Easier To Lie

Stiles was still unconscious, he had been for two weeks now. The doctors had stitched him up and run some tests to check for further damage, but thankfully there was none. Derek stayed beside Stiles every moment, of every day until he woke up. Every time the boy flinched, Derek would take a bit of his pain away. But it was draining Derek, the pain was exhausting. Of course, Derek didn't want to admit his sudden feel to be beside Stiles while he was healing. But it was like his wolf was attracted to him, and why wouldn't it be. Over the course of the time Derek had spent with Stiles, he was able to take time to look over the boy when he was being hyperactive and annoying. Derek had missed lots of Stiles that he didn't see while the boy was awake. With Stiles constant moving and talking, it subtracted away from his appearance as general personality. Derek realised that Stiles didn't actually have an annoying personality, but his ADHD and other problems distracted you away from his good looks and kindness. Of course the sarcasm never helps, although Derek couldn't imagine Stiles without it, and he didn't want to. Sarcasm was a key part of Stiles, something that made him _him_. Derek couldn't help but trace the dotted moles up the side of Stiles face. His high cheeks bones and pointed up nose that Derek found suddenly adorable. All the time Derek had been sneaking some of Stiles pain, he had time to admire his hands. His long, thin fingers that looked like they belonged to a pianist. 

Derek was dozing in the chair beside the bed, when he heard a quiet groan. Derek quickly sat up and looked to find Stiles waking up.

"Mm...what the-" Stiles began talking as he looked around him, but stopped and cried when he touched one his wounds. Derek forced himself to resist the urge to grab his hand and started taking the pain away.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, trying to distract himself from the new instinct.

"Like I've been hit by a truck," Stiles groaned as he tried to sit up. Derek noticed and started arranging the pillows behind Stiles to help him sit up but Stiles fell back on Dereks chest. Derek didn't move away. Instead, he moved onto the bed so Stiles head was laying on Derek's chest and he wrapped his arms around the skinny body.

"What happened?" Stiles asked quietly, sounding like a small child.

"We don't know. I found you laying unconcious in the road after Scott said he heard you cry out. Your car was smashed up, and I could smell other werewolves on you," Derek replied. "You've...you've been in a coma for two weeks. Not to mention you have two broken ribs, four others are cracked and one almost collapsed your lung. You lost a lot of blood from the scratches they left on you but I got Deaton to check you over and don't worry, none of them are deep enough to turn you. We also checked you, more than once, for any bites but thankfully didn't find any."

"Oh," Stiles replied simply, he couldn't lie that he was slightly disappointed to find out that he wasn't bit or anything and was still the useless, wounded man he was before. Stiles has always thought he'd hate to be a werewolf, which is why he rejected the bite from Peter, and still, no one knows about that. He began trying to work through his brain to find out what happened. Stiles was surprised by a sudden rush of memory when it came back. He rememebed what Scott did, how he lied to him. Stiles began to get angry as the memories refreshed in his head, but it eventually gave him a headache. That was when he remembered the voice. The voice that was going to give him power and strength.

"Stiles, are you...are you alright?" Derek asked in a soft tone, feeling as Stiles body tensed up while he was lost in thought.

"Yeah," Stiles mumbled, not paying full attention. His mind was still working out what happened. He remembered seeing the figures closing in on him, but the rest was just a blur. A painful blur.

"No, no your not Stiles. I can smell it on you." Derek replied.

Stiles looked up, Derek's soft face looking down on him. "What do I smell like then?" 

"A mix. Of anger, pain, and nerves," Derek pushed his eyebrows together, waiting for Stiles to reply. Instead, he yawned which Derek found surprisingly adorable. But then he flinched, and without thinking, Derek grabbed Stiles' hand and watched the black veins appear. Stiles stiffened at first, slightly shocked at Dereks kind action. However, Stiles couldn't stop himself from relaxing as the pain was drained out of him. Derek saw the exhaustion in Stiles' eyes as he rested his head on Derek's chest. Derek let go of his hand when the pain was too much and then wrapped his arms around Stiles again, avoiding the healing wounds.

"Derek?" Stiles asked quietly.

"Yes, Stiles?"

"Why are you here?" Stiles asked, so quiet it was barely audible, despite Derek's werwolf hearing. Stiles spoke again before Derek could respond when he realised how bad that had sounded. "Fuck! Thats...thats not what I meant. I meant...why are you being so...nice?"

A smile reached Derek's lips as he answered. "Your pack," he said simply.

Stiles tensed and his heart fluttered, not believing Derek but also not having the energy to argue with him. He'd just hoped that Derek didn't hear what his heart did, that would be slightly embarrassing. Deep down, Stiles knew he wasn't pack, and he was kind of hoping for Derek to come forward and admit that to him. Of course, Derek was seeming a bit too nice if Stiles was just pack. Stiles hadn't seen Derek do this to any of the other pack members although none of them have ever been in hospital for injuries. Damn werewolves.

Stiles broke out of his thoughts when the door crept open, revealing Melissa as she walked inside.

"Your awake!" Melissa smiled, her face lighting up. "How are you feeling?" 

"I'm fine." Stiles lied, knowing it was easier on them if they thought he was okay even though he felt like hell had chewed him up and spat him out. Considering after two weeks of them panicking about him being in a coma, he didn't want to worry them further. 

"Good," Melissa relaxed and Stiles felt a hint of relief. "Do you remember anything?" "Not much," Stiles admitted shamefully. "Its all kind of a blur." "Okay," Melissa nodded. "I'll send someone in to ask the basic questions, just for precautions." Stiles nodded at the same time as yawning. Derek couldn't help but find it unbelievably adorable, suddenly finding himself staring as the younger boy slumped into him further. 

"Maybe you should get some more sleep," Derek suggested, bringing himself out of his stare.

"Yes," Melissa instantly agreed. "Sleep is the best thing for healing and believe me, you need it, love."

Stiles nodded although he didn't think after two weeks of sleeping, he'd need more. But as usual, he was surprised as a wash of exhaustion swept over him and barley had time to hear Melissa saying his dad was on his way before Stiles drifted off to sleep again.


	6. Thinking Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles spends some more time in hospital recovering before he is discharged and does too much thinking while he's alone.

Stiles spent another four days in hospital. They were running various tests and checking his injuries that were heading surprisingly fast. They said it wasn't unusual for him to have been in a coma since they were told he was in a car crash. Derek and Scott had come up with a believable story that Stiles was just driving along the road when something ran out into the road, causing him to swerve off and hit a tree, the doctors only assumed he hit his head in the process which lead to the small coma. But Stiles knew that wasn't what happened. He knew that a pack of werewolves attacked him as he wasn't warned of their presents. Deep down, Stiles knew it was slightly his fault he being careless and sitting on the side of the preserve with a broken down car, on a full moon. Even if there wasn't pack of crazy werewolves running around, anyone of his own pack could have lost control to the full moon and easily attacked him without knowing.

Stiles had woken up about fifteen minutes before, realising there was no one in his room with him. His dad and Scott had been as supportive as he had expected, maybe a little over the top but you can never be too careful. Stiles knows Scott blames himself, and Stiles kind of blames Scott as well although he'd never tell him that. Scott had enough on his plate without Stiles being annoyed at him. It had taken Stiles almost an hour to convince Scott to go home. He'd been with Stiles every free moment he had despite school. Even without werewolf senses, Stiles could smell that Scott was in serious need of a shower. The kid looked rough as well, not sleeping very well in the plastic chair beside Stiles hospital bed plus all the extra things that were exhausting him. 

Derek hadn't visited again since Stiles first woke up. He'd drifted back to sleep after a while, still in Derek's arms but when he woke up, Derek was gone. Stiles doesn't want to show thats it bothering him, he was surprisingly happy to see Derek there when he woke up first time. There was no way Stiles is going to admit that he has always had feelings for Derek, they're small but there. And have been ever since the day Stiles first saw Derek standing in the woods telling him and Scott to get off his land, his face plastered with his glare that Stiles has grown to love. It took a while for Stiles to accept the fact that Derek didn't even want to be friends with him, let alone anything more. And Stiles had accepted it, bottling up his feelings so no one would find out otherwise he is pretty sure he'd die of embarrassment. 

Stiles laid on his side, his right arm folded under the pillow, giving his head more support as his left arm stayed tucked under the covers, curled against his chest. Stiles had been struggling to keep himself warm so he'd asked Melissa to get him more blankets that he's pulled up to his chin and made himself a small cocoon. Thankfully, he was either so drugged on painkiller that he didn't feel the pain of being position he was laying, or his wounds didn't actually hurt. It took him some time to come to the conclusion that he probably had strong doses of painkiller, which would explain the cloudy feeling he has in his head and the drowsiness thats  attempting to drag him under once again. But Stiles can't shake the feeling that he isn't entirely alone. His mind was racing with the thoughts of the voice that he heard when he was in the coma. The sinister, hollow and menacing voice that offered him power. Power that he so obviously craved. Stiles couldn't imagine being a useful part of the pack, not having them give him nervous looks when danger is close, not to have them try and convince him not to join as he wasn't strong enough. It was times like this that Stiles wished he took the bite from Peter when he offered. If he had, then he wouldn't be seen as this weak, fragile and breakable human thats worthless and just a venerability to the pack. He'd be strong, fast, useful and respected by everyone. After a while, Stiles felt a headache beginning to brew and he finally allowed himself to sleep.


	7. This Is Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson is usual jack-ass self, but it comes to a surprise when Stiles teaches him a lesson. Although him and Derek aren't convinced it was really Stiles.

After a few days, Stiles was released from hospital. They weren't sure how he was fully recovered, from what Stiles had heard, he was seriously beat up. His ribs had healed completely, all the cuts and bruises had healed and disappeared, even the fatal ones didn't even leave a scar. Melissa had tried to convince Stiles to stay until later, when his dad could pick him up but Stiles didn't want to wait. He just wanted to go home and shut out the world for a few hours. When Melissa had asked if there was anyone else to pick him up, Stiles said no, considering everyone else was at school and Stiles didn't have the courage to phone Derek. Considering he hadn't seen the dude since he woke up almost a week ago.

Stiles walked out of the hospital, shoving his hands in his pockets to protect himself from the Autumn cold as he walked down the pavement. It felt good to be outside again. He was getting sick of being cooped up in that small hospital room, either alone or wanting to be. There was a light wind that brushed against Stiles pale skin and god he felt disgusting. He couldn't imagine how bad he smelled after not showering for almost three weeks. They wouldn't let him have one even when he woke up, apparently unsure whether he was stable or not.

Stiles was walking for about 5 minutes before he started to think that what he saw was nothing but a dream The voice that had offered him power and strength, he hadn't heard it again since he woke up form his coma. So maybe it was a dream, or his subconscious tricking him.

"It wasn't a dream, Stiles," The same hollow, sinister voice spoke, Stiles stopped dead in his tracks and looked around as his hairs stood on end. He found nothing but an empty street and tried to convince himself it wasn't real, that his mind was just fooling him. "This is real," The voice spoke again. "I am real, and I'm going to destroy you, Stiles."

"Destroy me? I thought you were going to make me powerful?" Stiles said aloud, not thinking about how stupid he must have looked. He was almost fully convinced he was alone, apart from the voice although he was sure it was actually real.

"I will make you powerful. So powerful that even Derek Hale will want to be in your pack."

"Oh yeah. And how are you going to do that?" Stiles scoffed as he continued to walk, staring at the pavement.

"Just let me in," the voice sounded as if a whisper.

"How do I let you in?" Stiles asked, coming to a sudden stop as he stared straight ahead. It suddenly occurred to him that he healed from his injuries unhumanly fast, almost like...a supernatural creature. Did the voice do that? Did the voice help him heal? Was this the beginning of a long process? But what process? Some many questions swarmed around and Stiles was about to ask them.

"Let who in?" Stiles jumped and let out an embarrassing yelp, looked up to see Jackson standing to his right, staring down at him with his usual smug expression.

"Nothing," Stiles replied, his mind was foggy and confused, worried about whether he was possibly going crazy. Which would be one thing he refused to admit to Jackson.

"Of course. Then why were you talking to yourself?" Jackson cocked his head and smirked.

"Talking to yourself makes you smarted, maybe you should try it sometime," Stiles spat, the words were angry and harsh. He scared himself to think he just spoke like that, but it felt...good. 

Jackson scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Keep rolling your eyes, maybe you'll find a brain back there," Stiles snapped, his anger scaring him even more. He'd never been this aggressive. Even when he put up with worse shit from Jackson, he didn't ever speak like that. Especially after Jackson became a werwolf, and his anger only grew more strong.

"Well someones angry," Jackson chuckled. "Is this because of Derek?" Stiles' hands curled into fists when he heard Derek's name. "Is it because you like him? We all know you do, and poor you, considering he doesn't like you back," Jackson teased.

"Shut up," Stiles snapped, his anger spread through his body like wildfire. By this time, he didn't try to control it, he didn't even realise how angry he was until Jackson spoke again.

"Make me," Jackson laughed. Without thinking, Stiles' hands moved with his control. They clinged onto Jacksons throat and lifted him off his feet. His fingers squeezing tightly. "L-let me g-go," Jackson choked out. His face slowly turning blue. Jackson clawed at Stiles' hand, but Stiles didn't move. He just stood there, his eyes all black with a evil smirk.

"Whats the magic word?" Stiles teased, the smirk on his face growing as Jackson struggled for breath that he outdent reach.

"P-Please," Jackson pleaded and Stiles couldn't help but love the look on his face. He had really wished someone would get it on record, this could be something priceless for Stiles to use against Jackson.

"Stiles?" A voice called out. Stiles turned to see Derek standing on the other side of the road, staring with wide eyes.

"S-Stiles, let g-go," Jackson choked, still struggling. Stiles turned back to him, not letting go but tightening his fingers until he saw Jackson break out a sob. Derek was suddenly by his side, grabbing Stiles hand, but it wouldn't move.

"Stiles, stop! Stop your killing him!" Derek pleaded as Jackson continued to cry. "Stiles!"

Suddenly, Stiles let go.  Jackson crashed onto the ground, crying as he gasped for air he could finally reach. "Oh my god! I am so sorry! I don't...know what happened," Stiles gasped, confused as to what was happening.

"What happened? You tried to kill me!" Jackson hissed, tears pouring out of his eyes as his face began to re-gain colour.

"Everything was black? I...I wasn't here," Stiles felt his eyes watering, he looked down to his shaking hands, his knees trembling and threatening to give out. He couldn't work out how Stiles was stronger than Jackson, who has wolf strength.

"Your crazy! You know that? Fucking crazy!" Jackson yelled, still laying on the ground as bruises on his neck begin to show. Derek glared at him before giving a concerned glance to Stiles.

"What do you mean?" Derek asked Stiles in a soft tone. Stiles looked up but saw a black figure standing behind Derek. He could feel his heart pounding hard against his chest, his breaths coming out short and hard but he refused to give into what felt like a panic attack coming.

"Don't tell them Stiles, or you'll loose the power," The figure said, making Stiles slowly step back, shaking his head slightly. 

"I-I don't want to kill anyone," Stiles whimpered. The thing cocked his head.

"You don't have to, once I'm fully in. But don't tell them, Stiles. Don't tell them or you'll loose me!" Then the figure disappeared, a small tears escaping from Stiles' eyes.

"Stiles?" Derek asked, bringing Stiles back to reality. He was closer now, his hand hesitating to hold Stiles arms that he wrapped around himself.

"It's nothing," Stiles voice was rough. "I'm just...tired and s-stressed," Stiles ran his hand through his messy hair.

"Okay, maybe you should go home and sleep," Derek suggested. He helped Jackson up and walked closer to Stiles, who was still trembling. "Do you want me to drive you home?" Derek asked, his voice was soft. Stiles nodded, simply.

Derek and Stiles drove home in silence. Every now and then, Derek would glance at Stiles. The boy looked terrified. His face more pale than usual and Derek debated whether to turn around and take him back to hospital. He knew something wasn't right but maybe it was out of the hospitals reach. He hadn't seen the whole thing between Jackson and Stiles. He just saw Stiles lifting Jackson off his feet. At first, Derek didn't think it was Stiles, as it was something he thought Stiles wasn't capable of doing. But the closer he got, the more he realise that it _was_ Stiles. And Derek had felt his heart drop to his stomach when Stiles turned to him, his eyes completely black and a psychotic expression on his face. Derek thought about telling Stiles about the eyes, and ask if Stiles had any idea what he was doing. But the look on Stiles face made Derek decide against it. All Stiles really needed was a good nights sleep without anymore problems.

They pulled up outside his house and Stiles unbuckled his seatbelt, taking more effort than usual which lead to Derek forming a frown.

"Stiles, you do know that you can tell me anything?" Derek asked before Stiles got out.

"I know," Stiles said quietly. "Thanks for bringing me."

"Its fine. Thats what friends are for," Stiles looked up to Derek, a small smile forming on his face.

"Bye," Stiles said as he walked to his house and got inside.

"Bye Stiles," _I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and comments! I love reading them, they really make my day so TYSM! 
> 
> Did you enjoy this chapter? I don't know if I'm going too fast but I've kind of already planned out the plot so it doesn't take too long to write the chapters. And I'm also doing my best to make them as long as possible for you all so :)))


	8. Walking Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its never a good idea to go for a walk after a nightmare, especially not in Beacon Hills when you have a voice in your head!

Stiles shot into a sitting position, screaming and gasping for air as he woke up from a nightmare. He was drenched in sweat and tears, his heart pounding against his chest so fast it felt like it wouldn't slop. He slowly stopped screaming, ran a hand through his bed hair and realised how much they were shaking. He could feel his body trembling, unable to get the graphic images of his pack being slaughtered out of his mind. His dream had consisted of him killing every member of the pack, but the worst part was he felt no control over himself. As if it was...instinct. His bedroom door burst open, making him yelp embarrassingly as his dad ran inside, face full of alert but exhaustion at the same time.

"Stiles, are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," Stiles choked out.

"Why were you screaming? Whats wrong?" His father looked hesitant to come in further, floating around by the door.

"Just a nightmare. Nothing to worry about," Stiles gave him a weak smile. He hated people worrying about him. It made him feel helpless. That was why he never spoke about his problems, never bothered anyone with them. "I'm fine, dad, honest."

"You do know, you can talk to me right?" his dad replied, tilting his head and squinting his eyes. Stiles knew his dad didn't believe he was fine, but also knew better than to bother Stiles about it.

Stiles nodded in response and his dad walked out, closing the door behind him gently. Stiles rolled onto his stomach and checked his phone for the time. 1am. "Great," he muttered under his breath. He knew he would never get back to sleep if he didn't calm down, and he felt a panic attack coming along. Stiles threw the cover off himself and swung his feet over the end of the bed. They touched the cold floor and he stood up slowly, feeling unsteady on his own two legs. He grabbed some socks and his black converse. His grey tracksuit bottoms were baggy but didn't hang over his feet thanks to the cuffed ankles. He slowly crept downstairs, trying not to alarm his dad. He grabbed his jacket and walked out.

As he stepped out, he remembered that he forgot his phone, but he didn't want to go back inside as it was a good chance he'd disturb his dad. It felt so good to him to breath fresh air, he slowly felt himself calming down, his heartbeat slowing. He felt the cold air brush along his cheeks, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked down the pavement. Stiles didn't look up, just kept walking. He didn't think to stop, even though he was dreadfully cold. Stiles felt the ground beneath him change to dirt, but he continued. He didn't register where he was, his mind was foggy and didn't seem to have control of his feet. He suddenly noticed the darkness he was walking in. He looked up to see nothing but trees and dark. The only light was the reflection from the full moon in the sky. Stiles didn't even realise it was a full moon, but couldn't bring himself to go home. Stiles felt something breath down his neck, but when he turned around, nothing was there. Until he noticed the shadow coming out of the dark.

Stiles slowly started to walk back, his heart pounding against his tired chest. He felt his heart fall to the floor when he recognised the shadow, it was his mom.

"Stiles," it even sounded like his mom, but when she got closer, Stiles noticed something different, her eyes were white. All white, with no colour.

"Mom?" Stiles broke into a small whimper, he felt his knees becoming weak from under him, but kept his balance. "Mom, is that you?"

"Yes, Stiles," his mom smiled, but not her soft smile, it was wicked. "You have to let him in, Stiles. If you do, then you can be with me."

"W-what are you talking about?" Stiles felt a tear roll down his cheek. The sight of his mother again, was making him break down. Except he knew it wasn't his mother, or could it be? Considering all the other things thats happened to him, seeing a dead person didn't seem too outrageous. 

"Let him in, Stiles. And then we can be together. On the other side," his mothers voice was soft, almost touching just like it always was.

"Mom-" Stiles began until he heard a voice.

Spinning around, he found Derek, standing behind him. He was in full wolf mode, red eyes glowing as he took in deep breaths, puffing slightly to make it obvious he's been running. "Stiles?" He asked, panic wavering in his voice but Stiles turned back to his mother, who now looked nothing but evil. A chill ran down his spine and made him cringe.

"Let him in, Stiles. Or you'll loose us, and we'll never be together again!" his mother warned, her eyes digging daggers at Stiles as he felt himself take in a sharp breath.

"Stiles, whats wrong?" Derek voice sounded nothing but an echo, completely distant as if they were standing in a tunnel. Stiles couldn't take him eyes on his mother as she slowly started to disappear. The fog around his feet began clearing.

"Stilessss, come with me," his mother held out a hand before disappearing into dark. Slipping away from him once again. Stiles didn't fight the urge this time. His knees buckled and he collapsed to his knees, crying as the rain started to pour down heavily.

"Stiles!" Derek shrieked as he ran over to the boy. Derek collapsed next to him and brought the shaking, crying, screaming and thrashing boy into his arms. Pressing him to his chest to make him calm down.

"Mom!" Stiles screamed, his voice full of pain which terrifying Derek. No matter how much Derek tried, the boy wouldn't calm down. "Mom, don't leave me again!"

"Stiles, please," Derek begged. "Stiles, I'm here. Its me, Derek. Your safe, I promise. Just calm down." Stiles almost instantly calmed down. Derek rocked him back and forth until he was resting on his chest, sobbing painfully. "Shh," Dereks voice was somehow comforting to Stiles, making him feel safe again.

"D-Derek?" Stiles sobbed as he looked up to Derek with red, puffy eyes. Derek felt the boys body shaking against him, probably from the cold or the fact that he was just hallucinating seeing his dead mother. Derek ran a hand through Stiles de-shelved hair and pulled the cold boy into his chest, tightening his arms around him.

"I'm here, Stiles." Derek soothed him, rocking him back and forth as he thought of what to do.

* * *

 

"Whats wrong with him?" Derek asked as he softly gazed at Stiles, who was curled up in one of the chairs in Deaton's waiting room, sleeping peacefully. "Deaton, whats wrong with him?"

"I'm not sure," Deaton mumbled as he turned to Derek. "Please, describe in detail, what happened."

"I was just...I was running in the woods when I caught his scent. He smelt like fear and panic. I followed his scent as I couldn't work out why he'd be out on a full moon. When I found him, he was just standing there. His eyes were locked on something but I...I couldn't see anything there. Like literally Deaton, there was nothing there." Derek stopped and folded his arms, not taking his gaze off Stiles. He took a deep breath, not understanding why he felt so strongly worried for Stiles. "He was talking to someone, and then he collapsed on the ground. Screaming, shaking and crying for his mom," Derek explained, slowly getting lost in thought on what happened. He slowly began to realise he didn't feel like this about someone, only his past loves. He thought back to the moment when Stiles screamed for his mom, Derek felt like his heart had been ripped in two. He didn't know Stiles' mother, or what his relationship was like with her but from what Derek could guess, it was better than his relationship with his father. Although Derek never doubted the Sheriff, he'd been told that the Sheriff took on heavy drinking after his wife died, which always backfired and he ended up hurting Stiles in someway. It was just the way Stiles screamed. Begging for his mother to stay with him although deep down it wasn't possible that she was actually there.

"Anything else?" Deaton asked, breaking Derek out of thought.

"Yes. His eyes," Derek paused and looked up, taking in Deaton's confused look as s sign to continue. "They were black, like all black. No white in them. And then, once I calmed him down and he realised I was there, they turned normal again."

"That is strange. I'll do some research but until then, keep an eye on him. Now, I think you should take him home, don't want to concern Sheriff Stilinski," Deaton suggested. Derek nodded and walked to Stiles, who still was still sleeping in the chair, his cheek squashed up against his shoulder in a way that Derek could help but find unbelievably adorable. Snapping out of it, Derek carefully picked him up, bridal style, not wanting to wake him up.

As if Deaton had read Derek's mind, he said,"He should be out for a few more hours hopefully," Derek gave his a nod before leaving the building.

As Derek began to walk to his car which was parked a while down the road, Derek instantly noticed that Stiles was freezing, his skin ice cold as he shivered slightly in his sleep. It was small, but it was enough for Derek break into a run. Without jolting Stiles too much, Derek made it back to the boys house without waking him. Derek was slightly alarmed to find their front door unlocked, but that was probably from when Stiles had snuck out. Derek swiftly made his way through the house, up to Stiles room without disturbing the sheriff. Stiles was gently placed on his bed, still completely asleep as Derek took off his shoes. Derek did debate whether Stiles would be more comfortable out of his clothes but chose not too, not wanting to invade Stiles privacy, and considering Stiles already looked like he was in pyjamas anyways. Pulling the covers over the young boy, Derek stared at him from a moment. He was worried, more than worried about what was going on with Stiles. He honestly didn't know him well enough to assume this was normal or had happened before. But it was good, how could hallucinations be good? Derek broke out of thought was Stiles began to stir, his eyes slowly opening. Derek froze, his mind screaming at him to run or knock the boy out or something to stop Stiles from seeing him in his room.

"D'rek?" Stiles asked, voice quiet and rigged with sleep. But it was enough to break Derek out of his frozen state, bolting for the window in the hope that Stiles would just assume it was a dream and go back to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...what ya think? I'm really starting to like this tbh! You guys are so awesome and encouraging so thank you! Please leave comments and kudos as they are the most amazing thing to log on and find :)


	9. Stay Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is visited by another nightmare after Derek explains to the pack about Stiles little field trip to the woods last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank you all again for the support I've been getting from you guys, you are literally just awesome! So here is chapter 9, hope you like it!

Stiles was frustratedly stiffing his books into his rucksack when Scott burst through his bedroom door.

"Hey, buddy," Scott smiled widely.

"Hey," Stiles mumbled, not looking up as he put his final look in his bag with a heavy sigh, zipping it up and slumping it over his shoulder.

"You alright?" Scott asked, making Stiles look at him to find Scott's face painted with a concerned look. Stiles replied with a simple nod and a pathetic attempt of a smile as he grabbed his car keys and phone. They made their way to the car without another word until Scott broke the silence again as he shut the front door behind Stiles. "Whats up, Stiles?"

Stiles mumbled a 'nothing' as Scott and him got into his newly fixed Jeep. Thankfully, the Sheriff was old friends with a mechanic and was able to fix the large human shaped dent in the side of his car. Stiles was more thankful that he didn't have to get rid of it, seeing as its the only 'living' memory he has left of his mother, and after the incident from the night before, Stiles was in a hole new kind of morning over his mother.

Of course Stiles remembered last night. Not all of it, but most of it. Its mainly kind of blurry but he remembers. He remembers finding himself in the woods after going for a walk once he woke from his nightmare. He remembers seeing his mum come out of the dark, speaking comforting words when Derek showed up. That was when it all turned blurry. He can only remember his mum speaking coldly before fading away into the dark, slipping right between his fingers again like sand. It wasn't until he ran it all back in his mind that he thought of it all being some nightmare. It made a lot more sense as he remembers crying in Derek's arms, and not having his throat ripped out. The final thing he remembers is opening his eyes to find Derek standing in his room, staring at him before he bolted for the window. That, Stiles was certain was a dream.

"Stiles?" Scotts worried voice broke him out of his thoughts as he was dragged back to reality. "Stiles, have you been taking your adderal?" Scott asked as he watched his friend put his car keys into the ignition. Scott and Sheriff both knew that Stiles took more than just adderal. He also took some antidepressant pills from when his mother died. Growing up without a mother after watching her dies leaves some scars that take a long time to heal. It took almost 20 therapy sessions for the therapists to decide that Stiles had a mild case of depression, they called it 'early days' and that it should be easily treated with some pills. But its been almost 8 years and the Sheriff _still_ makes Stiles take them, just to be sure.

"Yeah," Stiles lied, doing everything he could he to keep him heartbeat calm, although it technically hadn't been calm for the past few days. The more he tried to control it, the more it spiked up to the point that he gave up trying to hid it, knowing Scott had already heard it.

"Your lying," Scott sighed. "Stiles-"

"Just drop it, Scott!" Stiles cut him off. "I'm okay, just...I'm okay." Scott watched as Stiles clamped him shaking hands to the steering wheel and reversed out of the drive way.

They sat in silence for the journey to school, Stiles thankfully wanting it that way. He didn't want to snap at Scott, none of this was Scotts fault. But the constant worrying and asking was frustrating, especially considering there is nothing Stiles hates more than to have people worrying about him. He just couldn't figure out what was going on. What did this voice want? Did the voice make Stiles hallucinate his mother last night? No. That wasn't a hallucination. It was a dream. A nightmare. It must have been. At the end of the day, Stiles couldn't imagine, even if he had been in the woods, for Derek to comfort him when he crashed to the floor, screaming and crying.

It wasn't until Stiles parked his Jeep in the school parking lot that Scott tried to speak again. "Stiles, you know if anything is wrong, and I mean _anything_ , you can tell me. We're brothers, remember? Brothers don't have secrets. You shouldn't be afraid of people worrying about you."

Stiles sighed, his hands shaking in his lap as he turned the car off. "Nothings wrong," he grabbed his backpack from the back seat and opened the door. "So drop it." And with that, he slammed his car door and didn't wait for Scott before he ran and disappeared into the school building.

It was a few minutes before Scott got out of the car, closing the door considerably more gently than Stiles had done when he found Lydia and Allison standing at the back of the Jeep, obviously waiting for him.

"Whats wrong with Stiles?" Lydia was the first to ask, holding her books tight against her chest. 

"I'm not sure, he's just...somethings bothering him but he won't speak to me about it," Scott ran a hand through his hair in frustration, he wanted to get Stiles to speak to him as his best friend was obviously in distress.

"Maybe we should try and talk to him?" Allison recommended, coming up to stand next to Scott, taking his hand in hers which almost instantly calmed him down. 

"He's probably just being a drama queen about something," Jackson grumbled as he hugged Lydia from behind. Lydia gasped as she elbowed Jackson in the ribs, hissing at him for what he said as Erica, Boyd and Isaac joined them.

"Whats up?" Isaac cheered, his blonde curls bouncing as he walked up.

"Somethings wrong with Stiles," Scott answered with a heavy sigh.

"Yeah, we know that. Theres a lot of things wrong with Stiles," Erica rolled her eyes, receiving a harsh glare from Scott.

"No, Erica. Something serious, but he won't tell me what it is," Scott felt Allison peck his cheek with a little kiss as he bowed his head.

"Hes tired, Scott, he's exhausted," Scott spun around at the sound to find Derek leaning against the Jeep, arms crossed over his chest. "I found him last night when I was running in the woods. I don't think he's been sleeping very well."

"What was he doing in the woods?" Scott asked, even more confused than he originally was.

"Even Stiles isn't _that_ stupid to go out into the woods on his own, at night," Isaac chimed in.

"I don't know what he was doing there, but he didn't think he was alone. I swear I didn't see anything, or anyone," Derek answered, pushing off the Jeep with his shoulder and walking to join the group circle.

"Then, who was he talking to?" Scott was becoming more worried than frustrated. He couldn't help but want to hear this from Stiles. He _should_ he hearing this from Stiles.

"Probably himself, like he did when he tried to fucking kill me," Jackson scowled.

Derek couldn't contain the low growl that itched in the back of his throat, ignoring the strange looks he received. "When I followed his scent, I found him taking to someone. And Scott I swear no one was there, but he saw someone. Next thing I know he's on the floor screaming and crying for his mother. Scott, his mother is dead." Derek knew as soon as the words left his mouth that he sounded inconsiderate. But he didn't know how else to put it.

"Yes, I know that, Derek," Scott sighed, sounding annoyed. "But he couldn't have seen her, so who was there?"

"I told you, Scott, no one was there," Derek was getting close to growling.

"Great, so Stiles, other than being an annoying, hyperactive spaz, is now hallucinating his death relative?" Jackson raised an eyebrow, groaning when he received another harsh elbow to the ribs from Lydia.

"Look, just keep an eye on him today, please," Derek sounded like he was begging, and didn't like it so he bolted away before any of them could confront him about it.

* * *

Stiles was stuck in economics listening to Coach Finstock rant about something that will never possibly effect Stiles' life in any sort of way. So instead of listening like everyone else, he let his hands draw aimlessly. He wasn't even sure what he was doodling. Moments later, he noticed something changed. He didn't hear anything, not Coaches booming voice, not the tap of peoples pens against the desk, not even the clock ticking in the corner of the classroom. He looked up from his paper, to find nothing but an empty classroom. He felt his heart beat pick up significantly, his hands began to tremble so much he lost grip of my pen that clattered onto the table, slowly rolling off and crashed onto the floor. The sound with echoing around the room as Stiles rose from his chair, looking around him to confirm that he was completely alone. He knew it was a dream. It must have been, this couldn't be real. He felt a hint of anger towards himself for letting himself fall asleep, causing him to enter another nightmare like this. 

"Stilessss," a voice echoed, making his heart jump to his stomach. He turned in a circle, suddenly finding all the tables and chairs gone from the room. Now with the room completely empty of furniture and people, Stiles let out a small whimper in fear. He knew the voice that called his name, but it was so distant he couldnt work out where it came from. Until it called again, this time coming from a straight direction.

"Stiles," It formed more of a hiss. Instincts screamed for Stiles not to follow it, but he knew he couldn't get out of this nightmare without facing it again. He headed for the classroom door, walking out into the gloomy hallway, which was suddenly pitch black. Confused and scared, Stiles gathered the small frail of courage he had left to walk down the hallway. If wasn't for the fact he'd walked down this corridor for years on end now, he would have no idea where he was going. It wasn't until he got to the end of the corridor that he heard the voice again, this time coming from behind him where he spun around, gasping when he found himself no longer in the school corridor, but in the woods.The woods that were dark apart from the bright, white moon that shone through the trees towering over him. He spun in a circle when something caught his eye. In the distance, between the two trees, was a figure. Standing perfectly still, staying right at him.

"Hello?" Stiles shouted out, surprised when he found his voice didn't break on him. He kept his eyes on the figure as it turned around, walking into the darkness beyond. "Hey!" Stiles shouted again, breaking out into a run. He wasn't sure why he wanted to chase this guy, but something about it made him curious. He ran as fast as his shaking legs could take him, sprinting through the thin trees until he tripped, crashing hard onto the ground with a heavy groan. It took his head a few moments to realise that he didn't land on the dirty ground, but from what he could feel under his hands, it was much worse. He opened his eyes to find Scott beneath him, eyes open, mouth gaping but no breath coming out. Stiles moved his hands from under him, pushing off as he felt his breaths become ragged. Scott's body lay limply on the ground, not even his chest rising which made Stiles eyes water. 

"S-Scott?" He cried, that was when he noticed the blood. Pooling from Scott's stomach as a gaping hole appeared. Stiles looked down at his hands to find them covered in blood, his right hand holding a sharp, silver blade. Screaming, Stiles dropped the knife and stumbled back from Scott's body. He killed him. He killed Scott. It took Stiles a moment to remind himself that it was dream. It _must_ be a dream.

"It was your fault, Stiles," a voice whispered from behind him. His knees trembled beneath him, but he remained standing as he span around quickly. His tears fell freely as he cried, the blood stained on his shaking hands. He didn't find anyone behind him, but he knew that voice. "Do you see how powerful you are when you use all that anger? You, Stiles, _you_ killed Scott. You killed a true alpha."

"N-no," Stiles whimpered, shaking his head in a 'no'. "I don't...I don't want to kill Scott. I d-don't want to kill anyone."

"But you do, don't you, Stiles?" The voice hissed. Stiles clenched his eyes shut, covering his ears as he cried, his body shaking with each sob that escaped his lips. Unfortunately, even though his ears were covered, he could still hear the mocking voice as it spoke, "You've always wanted this."

"I've never wanted to kill anyone," Stiles said quietly, ashamed at how broken he sounded.

"Your scared," the voice spat. "I can make you fearless. All this fear you feel, I can make it go away."

"H-how?"

"Just let me in," the voice was right in front of him now, he could feel the cold breaths against his face but Stiles refused to open his eyes. "Let. Me. In!" It shrieked.

"Stilinski!"

Stiles head snapped up, he uncovered his eyes to find himself back in economics. Surrounded by concerned and smug faces that stared at him. His heart was still pounding against his aching chest, but he knew he was finally awake, and safe. Stiles let his eyes drift to Finstock, who was standing directly in front of him, glaring furiously.

"Yes, Coach?" Stiles asked, thankful that his voice didn't waver or break.

"Get you act together, Stilinski!" Coach shouted, his voice gruff and pissed as he turned back to head to his desk, continuing whatever he was talking about.

Stiles let out a shaky breath, his hand tightening around the pen in his hand. He saw out of the corner of his eye, Scott staring at him. Turning his head, Stiles found Scott looked at him with concern plastered over his face. 

"I-I'm okay," Stiles gave him a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I must have fallen asleep."

Scott shook his head slightly. "Stiles, you weren't asleep," his eyes flickered down to something on Stiles desk, then back to him. 

Stiles took the hint and looked at his desk. He was suddenly terrified. On the paper below him, was what Stiles had been drawing. It was scarily detailed drawing of what looked like Stiles, except he had coloured his eyes in total black. The drawing showed Stiles crouching over a body, a knife in his hand, dripping with blood. With a small gasp, Stiles knew what he had drawn. With his shaking hands, he tore the paper from his book, scrunching it into a ball and stuffing it into his bag. He didn't want _anyone_ to see the drawing he drew of himself stabbing someone. Somehow, Stiles managed to keep his heartbeat steady and his panic attack down for the rest of the lesson. it didn't help that Scott kept looking at him like he was about to explode like some ticking time bomb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and comments of your thoughts. Improvements are always useful and encouraging! :)


	10. Whirlpools Of Black Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch doesn't go well for Stiles, neither does the pack meeting at Derek's after school.

"Hey Stiles, I bought you some curly fries" Allison says softly as she places as basket of curly fires in front of Stiles, before sitting on the other side of the table in between Lydia and Issac. Stiles gives her a weak smile in return. The whole day, Stiles had been extremely quiet, worrying his friends. They didn't understand, they had never seen him like this. None of them knew about what happened to Stiles the night before, although Stiles could barley get the memory out of his head.

"So, Derek wants to have another pack meeting after school. He said he wants to train us to work as a team" Scott announced, receiving nods from everyone apart from Stiles, who was staring into space. "Stiles?" Scott asked, making Stiles jump and look at him nervously.

"W-what?" Stiles replied shakily, as if he hadn't even heard what Scott said.

"I said, we're all going Derek's after school, you coming?" Scott repeated in a soft tone, doing his best to sound comforting.

"W-why?" Stiles asked, now biting his nails while his hands shook uncontrollably.

"We need group training, you coming then?" Scott said softly, focusing on Stiles, smelling the fear and hearing his fast and loud heartbeat. He couldn't stand seeing his best friend in such distress, so scared of something no one understood. Stiles nodded, picking up a curly fry and looking at it before placing it back down and sighing. He stared at his hands shaking, unable to stop them. Stiles placed his arms on the table, resting his head on them as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. Drained from sleep and rest, but he refused. He didn't want to sleep, didn't want to have anymore dreams. Anymore nightmares.

"Stiles?" Stiles lifted his head when he heard Dereks voice, but he didnt see him, in fact, he didnt see anyone. He looked around to see nothing but darkness. He stood up from his chair, only to find his foot chained to the floor. Stiles began to panic, searching around frantically as he knew what was coming. And just as he thought, the voice spoke.

"Who are we, Stiles?"

"Get out of my head." Stiles begged, tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

"I'm not in your head, Stiles." It hissed, the voice getting louder. "I am you."

"No," Stiles whimpered. "No!"

"Yes, Stiles." It hissed again, now the voice was coming from another direction. Stiles spun in a circle, seeing nothing but darkness as the voice continued to taunt him.

"Who are we Stiles?" It repeated. "Who are we?"

"I don't know!" Stiles screamed, clamping his hands to his ears as he tried to block out the vile voice.

"Who are we?" Now, Stiles could feel the cold breath on his face. But he refused to open his eyes. "Stilessssssss," It hissed. "Who are we?"

Finally, Stiles got the courage to open his eyes, slowly. But he instantly regretted it. He didn't see the bandaged man, he saw himself. But it wasn't him, it was evil. Black eyes, white face, a dark smirk. Stiles felt himself hyperventilating, becoming more and more terrified. He scurried back, only to pull against the chain that attached him to the floor. He looked at his foot and then back at himself, who was now standing closer.

"Who. Are. We?" It taunted, its black eyes pointing daggers at him.

Stiles suddenly gasped for air, his head jerking up and he almost fell backwards off his chair. His breathing was erratic and fast, his heart pounding so hard against his chest that it physically hurt him.

"Woah, Stiles! Are you okay?" Scott asked, looking at Stiles with a worried expression as the boy frantically looked around to find himself back in the school court ground, surrounded by frailer faces and friends.

"I-I'm okay, I just fell asleep for a second," Stiles replied as he tried to catch his breath. "I'm fine, just tired, honest." He looked down to count his fingers, to make sure it was real but his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"You don't look okay, Stiles," Scott said, making Stiles look up at him again. Within that moment, Scott recognised the fear and pain in Stiles' eyes. "What happened?"

"N-nothing," Stiles finally got his breathing down. "I'm just gonna go to the bathroom for a sec." Stiles reached down to grab his bag, noticing again how badly his hands were shaking. He ignored it snd stood up, stumbling at first but gaining balance as he leaned on the picnic table.

"Stiles-" Scott started but Stiles didn't want to hear it.

"I'm fine," He snapped, pushing himself up onto his own two feet. "I'm fine." 

Stiles walks straight to the bathroom, avoiding all eye contact as he stares at his feet, making sure he doesn't trip. He feels weak on his feet, more weak that he did before he had a five minute nap. His hands shook violently as he opened the bathroom door, dropping his bag in front of the sink as he leaned onto it, helping him stand. His knees grew weak as he looked in the mirror, finding his reflection staring back. His pale skin, cracked lips, large dark purple bags under his eyes. He felt his breaths become ragged, chest pounding hard as he closed his eyes, feeling them sting slightly as his exhaustion took it toll. He pushed it back, refusing to sleep, let alone in the bathroom. He opened his eyes, but felt his heart plummet to his stomach when he saw them. Staring back at him, wasn't his normal hazel brown eyes, but instead, were whirlpools of black abyss, soulless, ruthless. Snapping his eyes shut, his hands wavered against the cool sink, his legs trembling beneath him as he mumbled, "It isn't real, its just a dream,"

It was a couple of minutes before he dared to open his eyes, fearing to find what would stare back at him. He didn't know why he saw black eyes, but he knows it isn't good. Slowly and hesitantly, he opened his eyes, not directly looking at the mirror but at the sink below him. It took him a few moments to gather his courage and look back up at the mirror to his eyes returned to their normal brown. Relief flooding through him, he let out a long breath that he didn't realise he was holding.

* * *

Stiles was exhausted, more than earlier. He felt as if he had been drained in the time of only 2 hours. All he wanted to do is sleep, his body begging him for some rest and to lie down. He hadn't had a proper night sleep in weeks, and obviously, he couldn't hide it as well as he wanted. Parking outside Derek's loft, Stiles rubbed his eyes as he turned off the engine.

"Maybe you should try and get some sleep, take a nap or something," Lydia suggested from the passenger seat of his Jeep. Stiles closed his eyes, shaking his head when he heard Lydia exhale deeply. "Stiles, this isn't healthy. You need to sleep, you look like you going to drop any minute."

"I'm fine," Stiles replied, but it was far from convincing. He knew Lydia wasn't fooled when he opened his eyes and shot her a pathetic attempt of a smile.

"Stiles, honey, try for-"

"Can we just...go inside, please?" Stiles begged, motioning to the loft before him as he took out the keys and opened the door.

"Okay," Lydia said gently, she knew from Stiles appearance and tone that he didn't want to argue, but didn't want to sleep either. As much as she knew it was essential, she didn't want to cause Stiles any more distress. 

Stiles followed Lydia silently as they made their way up and into the loft. She heaved open the door and guided him in, he didn't want to show it but the journey up the stairs had done nothing good to his lack of energy. Walking into the loft, Stiles found Scott and Allison sitting next to one another on the couch, kissing with Isaac beside them who had a disgusted yet amused look on his face. Erica and Boyd where standing side by side, hands linking as they sent him a weary smile, which he attempted yet failed to return. Jackson rose from the chair when he saw Lydia, placing a hand on her waist as he greeted her with a kiss. Stiles didn't stick to stare, feeling his eyes ache so he walked further into the loft, shooting a glance at Derek who stood against his desk, a unreadable look plastered onto his face.

"Right, now that everyone is here, we can start," Derek announced, pushing off the table to stand straight, folding his arms across his chest.

"Why are we here?" Isaac chimed in.

"Don't you think thats what he's going to ask, dumbass?" Jackson spat, his unnecessary comment.

"Shut it both of you," Lydia hissed.

Derek took his eyes off the teenagers and let them drift to Stiles, who was currently yawning and swaying. Derek would be lying if he said Stiles didn't look absolutely adorable when he yawned, but Derek shook off the thought when he realised Stiles looked like he was going to collapse. "Stiles," thats all he had to say to receive Stiles attention. "Maybe you should lie down, you look really tired."

"Nah," Stiles shrugged. "I'm not that tired, just missed a few hours of sleep."

"A few?" Jackson scoffed, receiving a harsh glare from Scott.

"Stiles, you don't have to go to sleep. Just lay down. Your tired enough and standing isn't going to save any energy you may have left," Derek replied, he felt weird sounding sympathetic but didn't have the heart to speak in any other tone. Stiles obviously didn't have the fight to argue as he simply lead himself to the couch that wasn't occupied by werewolf's. Derek waited until Stiles was settled, leaning with one side pressed against the couch had, his knees against his chest as his head rested limply on his shoulder. 

Stiles was obviously drained as he was asleep in literally a matter of minutes. He'd completely zoned out of whatever the pack meeting was about as he began to drift off. He couldn't even consume the energy to fight it.


	11. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The entire pack witness one of Stiles horrific nightmares, but this time, the after effect causes more pain that usual and Stiles is starting to give up.

Stiles didn’t remember closing his eyes, but when he opened them again, he knew he’d made a huge mistake.

It took him a moment to realise that the reason why he couldn’t move, was because he was in fact in a locker. His back pressed hard against the cool metal as he shifted, moving his hands up as he pressed them against the door. At first, he only gave it a light push, the hope that it would be open instantly vanished. He pushed harder, again with no luck apart from the rattle of the hinges. Tears began to spur in his eyes as he struggled, pushing, punching and kicking against the door.

“Come on!” He shrieked as he gave the door one final hit, but was faced with no luck. He must have been attacked the locked door for a few minutes before he sighed in defeat, leaning his head forward, forehead pressed against the metal door. Eyes closed, Stiles key mumbling over and over, “wake up, just wake up,”

“Your not asleep, Stiles,” a sly voice echoed outside of the locker, making Stiles jump. His head shot up, heart pounding hard as he looked through the small slits in the door. Outside, he could see nothing but trees and shadows, glimpses of light shining through the leaves.

"P-please let me out,” Stiles whimpered, a tear escaping his unfocused eyes as fear scorched his bones.

“Let me in,”

Stiles clenched his fists to avoid them shaking. “I… I c-“

“Let me in!” It shrieked as the wind picked up outside, quickly creating what looked like the beginning of a tornado as the leaves and sticks were picked up off the ground, being thrown around by the gushes of wind.

“I don’t want to let you in,” Stiles shouted, feeling sudden burst of confidence that was soon crushed.

“They think you’re weak, Stiles. They think you’re pathetic, can’t even handle a few nightmares,” the voice was menacing, not taking a form of a figure so Stiles couldn’t even see what he was fighting. “If you let me in, I can make you strong.”

Stiles didn't know what to say. His mind was racing against his heart, his hands and body trembling inside the confined space. He felt as if his lungs were filling with water, his throat closing up as he struggled to breath. Gasping for air, he clamped his eyes shut.

“P-please,” he gasped, air coming short and ragged. “M-make… it st-… s-stop.”

“Let me in!”

Stiles suddenly shot up, eyes wide with terror as he began to feel his lungs taking in air. It took him a moment to realise that he wasn’t in the locker anymore, but neither was he in Derek’s loft. Instead, he was laying in his bed, his comforter sprawled out on the floor, he must have thrown it off when he was waking up. He felt himself begin to calm down, the comfort of being awake was settling in as he laid back down, slowly closing his eyes.

It was only a few minutes before Stiles began to get the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched. Opening in his eyes, Stiles was greeted with a bold figure standing over the edge of his bed, his face lit from the shine of the moon coming through the window.

“Derek!” Stiles yelped, jumping out of his skin in surprise. “W-what are you doing?”

“Pack patrol,” Derek shrugged. _Of course_.

“Pretty sure that doesn't involve standing at the end of my bed and watching me sleep,” Stiles forced a laugh but it came out bitter. He didn’t know if he was creeped out by the fact that Derek was just standing there but he was sure that he didn’t want the werewolf to leave.

“You’ve been a little off lately, I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Derek replied, moving closer so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are… are you okay?”

Stiles didn’t know how to reply. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t but he didn’t know if he could tell Derek that. Unfortunately, Stiles’ feelings betrayed him as he was suddenly unable to hold back the tears that spurred in his eyes, breaking out a strangled sob.

That was when Derek didn’t something unexpected. Shifting closer on the bed, Derek reached over and pulled Stiles into his lap, the teenager having to bit his lip to avoid yelping in surprise. Stiles couldn’t help but melt into the embrace, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder as he began to cry, unable to hold back anymore as he was drowned with bottled emotions.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Stiles sobbing and whimpering as Derek rubbed circles on his back and murmured comforting words. “Its okay,” Derek said softly. “You’re okay now.”

“Am I?” Stiles whimpered, moving his head off Derek’s shoulder so he could see the alphas face. “I’m so scared that I don't even know anymore.”

“Know what?”

“I don’t even know if I’m really awake,” Stiles whispered, his voice coming out strangled as the realisation hit him. Was he awake? “Are you… are you real?” He didn’t know exactly why, but Stiles began to poke Derek’s chest, hoping the motion would help him decide if it was real or not when suddenly, he felt something warm run down his finger. Suddenly, Stiles wasn’t poking Derek’s chest with his finger, but was actually stabbing it with a knife.

“D-Derek,” Stiles cried as the alpha made a choking sound, blood gushing from his open chest.

“See what you’ve done?”

Stiles shot around, moving off Derek’s lap when he recognised that voice. “I d-didn’t-“

“See what pain your causing him?”

“I’m…I-“ Stiles cut himself off with a sob, unable to take his eyes of the palling, bleeding Derek before him.

“You’re killing him, Stiles,”

Stiles clamped his hands over his ears, shutting his eyes as he rocked back and forth. Focusing on his breathing as he tried to shut out the voice.

”Stiles!” Someone yelled for him, but it was too distant to recognised them.

“Let me in, Stiles,”

“Go away!” He screamed. The filling feeling in his lungs was coming back, his throat began to feel like it was on fire as he cried.

“Stiles!” Another voice shouted for him again, this time louder but still to distant to recognise.

“Let. Me. In!”

Stiles eyes snapped open, the soul crushing scream escaping his lips as he jerked away from whoever was holding him, resulting in him falling hard on the floor. His eyes darted around, finding nothing but shocked and worried faces staring at him. His eyes stopped on Derek, who was sitting on the sofa, probably being the one who was holding him. His face dripping with concern as his wide eyes stare back at him. 

“I-uh... I," Stiles stuttered, his breaths coming short but not as bad as he'd thought. He could feel his hands shaking underneath him, struggling to hold him up. His heart was slamming against his rib cage, eyes unfocused as he brushed away the tears that escaped them. Was he awake? Was he finally awake?

“Stiles,” Derek said cautiously, Stiles head jerking up as his attention was caught. Everyone could see the trembling boy, their hearts crying out. Stiles brought his knees up to his chest to hid how much his hands were shaking, wrapping his arms around himself. Slowly, Derek raised from the couch, making his way towards the teenager who was still on the floor. It wasn't until Derek was crouched in front of the boy when he spoke again. "Stiles, what happened?"

"I-I couldn't... I couldn't wake up," he whimpered, tightening his grip around himself, his eyes locked on a spot on the loft floor in front of him. "It said I was k-killing you."

Derek failed to hide the confusion and hurt on his face but thankfully Stiles wasn't looking at him. "Who? Stiles who said you were killing me?"

Stiles hesitantly looked up, locking eyes with Derek when the alpha saw it, the fear that swarmed those once bright caramel eyes. Stiles was about to reply when he got hit with waves of nausea, hitting him like a train when he shot up, making a beeline for the bathroom. He threw the door open and collapsed in front of the toilet as he began to throw up. Stiles didn't even think that he hadn't much all day until he caught the glimpse of crimson red in the bottle of the toilet bowl before he continued to throw up blood.

"Oh my god, Stiles!" Erica squeaked from the door, the other werewolves whining at the pained pack mate. Derek pushed through, crouching behind the teenager and rubbing circles on his back, in attempt to make it any less horrific.

"P-please...make it...s-stop-p," Stiles chocked out as he continued to throw up blood.

 _"And what wold be the fun in that?"_ The tormenting voice said in the back of his mind. _"I can take away all this pain, you know that. You just have to do one simple thing. Or otherwise, I'll make this pain go from you, to your friends. Everyone you've ever loved, or cared about, or even spoken to, will die in pain and torture. All you have to do, is let me in."_

Once he finally stopped, Stiles wiped his mouth with his sleeve, flushing the toilet with a shaky hand as he lent onto the wall, his whole body shuddering as the cool tiles sooth the back of his head. 

"Stiles-"

"Water please," Stiles cut them off, knowing they'd ask if he was okay or something else stupid that he wasnt in the mood to hear. Before he opened his eyes, he felt a cold glass placed in his hand. It took a lot, but he found the strength to lift the glass to his lips, washing down all the excess blood and tangy copper taste that was left in his mouth. "Thank you."

"Stiles, I think you should see someone," Scott said from the doorway, making Stiles open his eyes and find the entire pack watching him, only Derek in front with concerned eyes.

"C'mon, Scotty, haven't been single for that long," It was a poor attempt at a joke and Stiles couldn't even push himself to laugh. He closed his eyes again, absorbing the comforting feeling of the cold wall behind him.

"I didn't mean that," Scott sighed.

"You were coughing up blood, Stiles," Isaac added, his voice shocked.

"Don't you think I gathered that, Isaac?" Stiles snapped, instantly reforming with a sigh. "Sorry."

"Maybe we should see Deaton," Scott suggested.

Stiles chuckled bitterly. "Taking me to a vet instead of a hospital, great plan there, Scotty boy,"

"Stiles, we're only trying to help," Lydia hissed, she felt bad after just seeing Stiles go through all that but he knew what he said was in the wrong.

"I'm sorry. I just..." Stiles couldn't finish, he didn't know how the hell to explain that there was a voice in the back of his mind threatening to kill everyone he loves unless he 'lets it in'. His eyes still closed, Stiles felt like the energy he had was washed out of his body. He felt the glass slip out of his fingers, waiting for it to smash on the floor, but it didn't happen. Stiles opened his eyes to find the glass clasped in Derek's hand, his eyes looking directly at Stiles as a small, soft smile perched on his lips. 

The silence was broken by a knock at the loft door. "That'll be the pizza," Jackson announced before departing to the door. Others followed, getting themselves seated in the main room, leaving Stiles, Derek in the bathroom when Scott moved closer, crouching beside Derek.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked obliviously. _Damn, Alpha instincts working 100% there._

"I'm fine," Stiles lied, and it was an obvious lie. Even if he had the energy, he wouldn't have needed to bother with his heart beat as it was still sky high from throwing up. Stiles finally opened his eyes, greeted with the two werewolves that had inched closer. "Seriously guys, I'm okay."

"You look like death," Derek deadpanned, sick of how Stiles couldn't admit to not being okay.

"I feel like death," Stiles shot back, attempting to get up. Unfortunately, his legs felt like jelly and he only managed to get half way before he fell back down, landing in Derek's arms before he could crash onto the floor. Stiles didn't get a chance to say anything before Derek lifted him up in his arms and carrying him out into the main room. Stiles was about to protest when the strong smell of pizza smashed into him, making him feel nauseas again. By the time Derek had set him on the couch, Stiles had somehow managed to convince himself that he nothing else to throw up.

Stiles sat with his knees up to his chest, next to Derek on the two-seater sofa while everyone else was scattered around the coffee table. Stiles was adjusting the pillows behind him when he slice of pizza was shoved under his nose, he looked up to find Derek staring at him. 

"You need to eat," he shrugged and Stiles took the pizza, slowly nibbling on it as the pack talked about school work. It took Stiles about 7 minutes to finish his slice of pizza, in the time it took the rest of the pack to finish off three boxes. Stiles didn't notice, but as minutes past, he was slowly leaning further and further into Derek. The werewolf didn't protest, hating the exhausted appearance that Stiles was wearing.

Stiles was almost falling asleep when he felt himself being moved from the couch. He yelped, trying to get out of the strong arms that moved him when he was placed back down onto the couch again, this time in a more comfortable position. It took him a moment to realise that he was basically laying in Derek's lap now, but the werewolf showed no discomfort from the gesture as he sent Stiles and small smile. His body already tired and exhausted, Stiles didn't bother protesting as he basically melted into the warm wolf.

"Stiles, I've arranged for us to go and see Deaton tomorrow, he wants to run a few tests," Scott called softly from the other side of the room.

Stiles did nothing but nod, his eyes closed and half asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just like I said in my other fic, I am so so sorry for not updating but I've been logged out of my account for the last couple of weeks. I also had to take sometime to work out the plot as I am undecided on a couple of character deaths and other events in this fic so apologies for my lack of updates but I promise I'll get better!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and please leave kudos and comments :)
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes, this is unedited.


	12. Tests and rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deaton runs some tests, things get heated and Stiles makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I am so sorry I haven't updated in like forever!

Stiles sat on the edge of the metal table, his legs swinging limply as he chewed viciously on his thumb nail. His eyes were staring at Scott, Deaton and Derek who stood on the other side of the door, talking in the other room. It didn't feel good, something was obviously wrong. Stiles could feel it everywhere, in the air, the tight, suffocating atmosphere that had surrounded him like a thick cloud of fog.

Deaton had been running tests all day, but hadn't said a word to Stiles about what could possibly be wrong. Every test had made him more nervous, more jittery to the point that he physically couldn't sit still, despite his ADHD. He wanted to scream, break something or hit someone. The urge to let out his suffering and frustration was becoming more intense, running through his veins. Stiles sighed, looking down at his hands, that were shaking violently, as per usual.

Derek glanced through the glass window in the door, his eyes locking with Stiles. It wasn't a warm look, far from a smile or anything reassuring. It was sad, dreading and worrying that sent Stiles to a new level of nervousness. Stiles hoped down from the table, flexing his hands into fists to stop them from visibly shaking. _Its my mind, I deserve to know what is going on,_ he thought as he walked over, swinging the door open suddenly as their conversation came to a sudden stop.

"Sorry to interrupt," Stiles said bluntly, not missing the flash of hurt in Scott's eyes before he continued. "Anyone mind telling me whats going on? You know, cause I have a right to know what the hell is wrong with me."

Stiles wouldn't deny that his words were bitter, coming over harsher than he intended but part of it felt good. 

Deaton took it in his tow to explain, his tone was his normal cryptic, emotionless confusion. "I'm not sure yet, Stiles. I need to run a few more tests-"

"I'm sick and tried of these goddam tests!" Stiles exclaimed. "If you don't know whats wrong now then what is a few more useless tests going to do?"

"Stiles, we're only trying to help," Scott said with a pained look.

"Well you're doing a crap job of it," Stiles spat, grabbing his hoodie from the metal table and quickly walking out of the vets. He ignored the calls and shouts from derek and Scott. His walking continued into jogging, getting into his Jeep and climbing in just as Scott and Derek appeared out of the doors. They watched with worried expressions, Stiles could see Scott shouting something in his rear-view mirror but thankfully couldn't hear it from inside his jeep. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, speeding out of the carpark and driving away, as fast as he possibly could.

He didn't stop, not even when he was sure they weren't following him. He just kept driving, not even bothering to look were the road was leading him. 

Stiles didn't even realise that it was dark out until he saw the blinking light of his petrol warning, bringing him back to his senses to see that he was driving along a dark road that he didn't recognise. After a moment, he realised that he must have driven out of Beacon Hills when the chugging sound come from his engine, smoke seeping out from under the hood of his bonnet.

"No, no no no! Fuck!" Stiles cursed, the Jeep coming to painful stop. Stiles jumped out, slamming the door shut so hard he could have sworn he heard the glass crack. If he was a cartoon character, smoke would have been fuming out of his ears as he rounded the front of the car, lifting the hood to be greeted with a thick cloud of smoke that drifted in his face. He stumbled back, coughing violently as the smoke began to decipate. Once cleared, he stepped forward, staring down at the mess of his Jeep. Stiles couldn't help but see the mess of his Jeep as a metaphor of his life at the moment. A complete and utter fucking mess. His mind felt like it was slowly chipping away, his body forever exhausted and his face forever sullen. The past few weeks, his emotions have been uncontrollable, sudden bursts of anger when people are doing nothing to help him.

But thats the thing. _Stiles doesn't want help_. Since when has he ever wanted help? Of course, thats what people do, they synthesis the weak and wounded. Well Stiles isn't weak, he doesn't need all the pity and the shameful looks of people around him. He has always picked himself up, he's never asked for help, nor has he excepted it. So why would he now? What different? Just because everyone else is now so much stronger,has so much more potential for life than he does. Stupid. Stupid little Stiles Stilinski who can't even fight the stupid little voice in the back of his useless brain. Weak, pathetic, useless, shameful, ugly-

Rage erupted and suddenly, Stiles had no control over himself. Without thinking, Stiles let out a frustrated yell as he slammed his fist down on the engine. He stammered back, breath suddenly coming short from his miniature outbreak. Pain spread through his fist, blood seeping through the cuts as bruises showed up almost instantly. A knuckle looked visibly out of place and Stiles felt nausic just looking at it. He shook it off, ignoring the pain as he slammed the hood down and climbing back in the car.

Perfect, he thought. So now his Jeep was out of gas, smoking which was a sign of something needing repairing, his engine was probably broken and by the looks of it, so was his hand. 

"How does it feel?"

Stiles went stiff, muscles tensing so fast it should have been painful if his body wasn't numb with fear. That voice. The same demonic, menacing voice that was playing at the back of his mind.

"How does it feel, to get all that anger out?"

"Fuck you," Stiles spat. He couldn't see it, and it would have looked like Stiles was simply talking to himself like a insane person. Was he insane now?

"With anger like that, you could be so strong. Anger is power, violence will have people fearing you, isn't that what you want?"

"I didn't want any of this," Stiles murmured, hot tears burning his eyes as his emotions finally caught up with him.

"Yes you did, Stiles. Remember? You wanted power, you wanted respect, and most importantly, you wanted Derek to see as more than a weak, defenceless human"

"Why do you care?" Stiles snapped. "All you've done is cause me pain."

"I told you, the pain goes when you let me in,"

Stiles stopped, the gears in his brain working overdrive as he properly thought it through. If he did let this in, he _would_ be powerful, he _would_ be a proper member of the pack. All the pain, all the shame and embarrassment, it would stop. Just like it did for Scott.

"Fine," Stiles whispered, his mind still undecided as he jumped into the idea. "How...how do I let you in?"

"Like this,"

Suddenly, the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so that was chapter 12. I apologise again for my lack of updates, but I'm starting to get back into this story so I'm going to continue it. This was quite short, so I will hopefully have another chapter by the end of this week, if not, then it will be early next week as I'm off on Christmas break as of Friday! :)
> 
> Leave kudos and comments, thank you!
> 
> \- unedited


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